The Rush
after years of hardened days..
and weary night's...
my hands are chaffed and sore...
the water runs straight thro my aching bones..
this goldrush seemed a easy game..
then yesterday i hit the mother lode...
today i'm looking down in awe...
in my hands my golden ore...
ostentatious..
not a chance...
you are the real mccoy..
not fools gold...
a solid heart of gold...
your glittering in my eyes..
into a sun soaked honeycombed sky..
your a rush fresh from the river...
the changing of the season...
crashing headlong into my life..
my hibernation's ended..
more nuggets gather in my pan..
I can't believe my fortune...
there glittering, sparkling..
shinning bright...
their dancing in the light...
I see a future growing..
horizons glowing...
my thought's are now your mine..
and I am yours..
we should not waste this chance.............
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2011
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